Hello, my name is Martina and I'm trying to learn how to see the true beauty in things. Sometimes, I'd swear it gets harder with time. On this blog, I'm trying to remain absolutely honest, and yet believe it is okay to truly be my own self. Strange how hard it might be, isn't it?
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*at the bar* me: hey cutie wanna head back to my place?

her: Nah

me: okay but love is a shout in the void and oblivion is inevitable

her: damn really? K lets go

557 Notes

i dont wanna wear clothes anymore ever :—(

it’s SO beyond ridiculous how much fuss can some people make about OTHER WOMEN not shaving their body parts?? like it’s just hair which is NATURALLy occurring there at the first place AND mostly NOT YOUR body at all like what the hell can you stick your head out of your own ass ‘cause no one cares about your opinion thank you

8 Notes
Filed under: never gonna understand this

ophelieae replied to your photo “lovely weather // diary writing”

It’s very lovely weather here as well. How warm it is there? It’s still a bit cold to read outside but I try not to care about it.

it’s beyond lovely here already, about 16°C, although sometimes the wind from the sea might get a bit chilly! anyway, i was sitting on a rock which reflected the heat and it was actually too hot sometimes, i could calmly wear shorts !! 

1 Notes
Filed under: ophelieae
lovely weather // diary writing

[TW: rape]

This is the rape joke:
My best friend was four years old the first time his father came into his room at midnight and tore out his throat. He still has days when I cannot hold him because the memory of a bleeding trachea haunts his doorway. He has not been home for the holidays in many years, but – even now – hands are seen as weapons.

This is the rape joke:
I have been told by more than twenty people that they have been raped. To all of them, I asked where the rapist was. From none of them, I heard ‘jail.’

This is the rape joke:
Once my brother told me that I was so ugly, I would be a virgin forever. Unless someone raped me. But even they wouldn’t come back for seconds.

This is the rape joke:
I believed him.

This is the rape joke:
I now look at every woman on the street and wonder if the space between her legs is a crime scene, surrounded by ripped caution tape. The statistics tell me that this is so common that I will never be in a room that does not contain a survivor. Not even if I am in that room alone.

This is the rape joke:
I was thirteen years old, and he was supposed to be just a friend.

This is the rape joke:
When his older brother came home, the boy pulled away. He wiped the tears from my face and said ‘we should do this again some time.’

This is the rape joke:
When I finally told my parents, they asked what I had been wearing.

This is the rape joke:
I had been wearing my innocence. My trust. I had worn the love I held for humanity and expected to be treated well. I had never been taught that I would be that girl, the one who keeps a mine of secrets between her legs – that girl was the slut. I wasn’t supposed to be breakable.
What had I been wearing? I wore the rape joke, then I became it.


This is the Rape Joke | d.a.s

After Lora Mathis’s poem “the Rape Joke

(via sulkiness)


i’m so absolutely bored of my present form i’m going to do something completely drastic soon and it’s going to feel so fucking good. no regrets. i’m already shivering 

411 Notes